Outta Time
by josiesayz
Summary: It has been almost 30 years after his time traveling adventures with Doc Brown and Marty McFly hasn't seen his scientist friend since. Not knowing how to contact a guy who lived in the late 1800s, Marty does the only thing he sees logical: he writes a letter.


Okay, so this is my first fan-fiction piece. I have read it through dozens of times, so I hope that it's okay. I don't particularly want to talk about my piece, I'd rather let it speak for itself. It's great if you like it, but it's fine if you don't.  
>Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction using characters from the film trilogy 'Back to the Future'; I do not own the characters or the film references.<p>

**Outta Time**

5th November 2013

Dear Doc Brown,

Jeez Doc, it's been so long since I last saw you. Yet, I feel like I can still remember it as though it happened only last week. I can't possibly tell you how much I miss you, Doc. It's been nearly thirty years. Gosh, when I actually put pen to paper it makes me feel so old. I bet you noticed the significance in the date of me writing this. I thought today would be the perfect date to write to you. Today always brings back the memories. Believe me, Doc, I wanted to sit and write to you more times than you could ever imagine, but one thing's always stopped me: how can you write to a guy who's been dead over eighty years? I know that you managed to get that letter to me in the fifties from 1885 (that I can just about cope with), but how do you go about sending a letter back in time? Why did I have to get that DeLorean totalled by that train? That way I could have used it to go back and visit you. Heck Doc, you have a flying steam train! Why the hell didn't you come back and visit me? It's not like I'd have meddled in another of your adventures or anything – I'm way through with time travel… but that doesn't mean you had to push me out of your life forever, does it? I guess you probably were better off without me, I mean over the time we spent together I managed to nearly screw up nearly a hundred and thirty years of history. It doesn't surprise me that you never wanted to come back and see me… or forward to see me… oh, you get what I mean. Maybe something happened to the time machine. Maybe you destroyed it, like you asked me to destroy the DeLorean. You could have at least warned me first.

Where do I start, Doc, you've missed so much. Me and Jennifer got married, we've got two great kids, Marlene and Marty Junior. And let me tell you, Marty Junior's nothing like the wimpy kid that I met back in the old 2015. And my job, well, Doc, you should see me. For a start, I'm not pushover like my old man and I don't go to an office everyday either and I don't have Needles hanging over my head. On the day I arrived back (for the last time) in 1985, I never challenge Needles in that drag race and I never broke my arm. You were right, my future wasn't already written and I could change it – heck, I did. And you'll never guess what, Doc, 'The Pinheads' made it big. We were rock stars, jamming on stages all over the world. We were huge. There were sell out concerts, screaming fans, flights to LA, Hollywood, a European tour, loads of cash, did I mention the millions of screaming fans? It was heavy, Doc, you should have seen it. But just like everything… it never lasted. After five good years, the band broke up. We all went our separate ways. I went solo, had a few number one hits, a couple of number one albums – one went platinum. Doc it was amazing. I could never have imagined that just changing the outcome of that drag race with Needles could have changed the future, my future, so much. I've retired from the limelight a little now to spend as much time as possible with the kids, but I still go out and play a few shows here and there and do a few charity gigs.

My parents, Dave and Linda are doing great too. Dave's a deputy-manager of a big up-town company – who'd have known. And Linda owns her own hair salon down town. Mom's happily retired, enjoying the quiet life and Dad, well Doc, you should see him. Not only is he the boarding director of a massive marketing company – still even though he's in his seventies, but he's a famous sci-fi novelist. I know you said not to meddle, but getting George to stand up to Biff was probably the best thing I've ever done for the man. I bet you're wondering about Biff too, huh? Well he's not exactly the wimp that I met when we went back to 1985 the first time, but he's not as aggressive as he used to be either. He was Dad's PA until about a decade ago when he retired. He's in some local retirement home now and his kids… well let's just say his grandson isn't a cyborg. But they are the local bullies – just like Biff and his gang back in 1955 I dare say. I mean, I don't see much of them but Marlene and Junior mention him and his lot from time to time. They're yet to get mixed up with him and his gang, which hopefully means that the Hill Valley bank heist of 2015 will never happen – fingers crossed. Junior's nothing like the loser he was when I met him before, so let's just hope things say that way. Besides, I wouldn't have you to come help me – I mean him, out this time if things go bad.

How are you, Doc? You've got to be pushing ninety now – well you would if you were still here, with me in 2013. How are Clara, Jules and Verne? And how's about Einie, Doc? I mean I've looked you guys up in the history books, but that's nothing compared to actually hearing from you myself. Don't worry, I won't dwell too much – I know how you say no one should know too much about their own destiny.

There's something else you should know, being as you stayed back in 1885, when I came back to 1985, your house, The Brown's Mansion, hadn't been destroyed by fire in the sixties. It was all still there, except it was empty and all boarded off. By staying in 1885, Doc, you must have created some sort of time paradox (or something or other that you were always warning me about), because it's like you never existed, only in history. There's no record of you alive and living in 1985… or 1955. It's like the mansion was just left, abandoned. I tried racking my brain for years over this: just because you went back in time to 1885, doesn't mean that you weren't born in 1920 to your parents, right? So does that mean that somehow you managed to meet your parents and convince them not to meet, or not to have you? Or did they have you and you managed to stop the fire that destroyed your house? I haven't got a clue what happened, Doc. For years I tried to find out what had happened to you, to the house, but there just isn't any record of you existing anymore in 1985, 1955 or anywhere after the you who I left for 1885 dies. However, after becoming a rock 'n' roll star and earning enough money, I actually bought The Brown Mansion and restored it to its former 1950s glory. I even kept its name to remind me of you. I even taught my kids all about you. I'm not entirely sure that they believe me about the time travel thing, but they do respect your house and we, well I, visit your grave regularly. That probably sounds kind of creepy, I know, and don't worry, I know that you don't want to know how, why or when it happened, so I'll spare you the details.

But out of everything that's happened, Doc, there's one thing that's been bugging me: the future isn't what it was. I know I changed my life and everything, but I'm not talking about that, I mean the world's changed. There are no flying cars, no fast drying clothes, no hydrated pizza, no one-size-adjusts-to-all jackets, no DNA readers for front door locks. Doc, these screwballs haven't even invented the hoverboard yet. And there's no sign of cyborgs anywhere! There had been times when I could talk to Jennifer about this stuff, about the future, about what we'd seen, but now she refuses to admit that the whole time travel thing ever happened – she's just wrote it off as a bad dream. I'm so alone here, Doc. There's no one to turn to who wouldn't think that I'm a nut. That's one of the reasons why I'm writing to you, Doc: Have you ever been surrounded by people, but still felt so lonely.

Now I know we went back in time to 1885, but I didn't think I'd screwed it up that badly that I could have changed what 2015 will be like. Okay so maybe a beat Buford, saved Hill Valley from living in fear, stopped you from being shot but hey, you're the one who stopped Miss Clara Clayton from falling down the ravine. Now it's called the Eastwood Ravine, Doc, not the Clayton Ravine – as in me, 'Clint Eastwood', I still can't get used to it.

But I've been thinking about it. Why's everything different? Well not too different, I mean 'Nike' have just invented self-tying shoes (about time) and they actually have 1980s vintage diners – although a virtual image of Michael Jackson doing the moonwalk doesn't actually serve you, but the colours, music and food are all there. They're just lacking so far behind in technology. But then it hit me: you. You, Doc, are the reason that technology hasn't progressed. You were the one who should have invented cyborgs, and hydrated pizza and flying cars and DNA front door locks and hoverboards. Doc we need you. I need you. The future needs you. We're running out of time. October 21st 2015 isn't that far away, Doc, and the world's nothing like it was when we visited it almost thirty years ago – it's taken a serious downgrade.

You know Doc, not a day goes by when I don't think about you or the adventures that we had. I have no idea if you'll ever get this – I've never had to send a letter back in time before. I'm not even sure what to do with it really. All I know is I miss you, and I mean _really_ miss you, Doc. If there is any way that you can send me a sign, hop by in your stream train (the rail line is still where it always has been), a letter to the Post Office from 1885… 1880-anything – even 1909, anything Doc, seriously. It's driving me crazy. There's no way that I'll ever forget you, Doc. I just hope that you haven't forgotten me.

Your friend always,

Marty McFly


End file.
